Post-Something

If spirals of curiosity drag you out
From your nest, out in the wild
In search of fellow survivors
within freedom's crumbling towers.

But all that the eye can grope
Is flesh and scales and feathers
All of them devoid of hope.

Within the reach of our Almighty king
Nobody knows what life can bring.
some dream of life, some dream of dreams
Some die in vain, without a dream.

Such is the mortal sleep design
With eyes wide open
The fabric of our fates entwined.

However life paints such disgusting sights
Of coin paving streets with blight;
Streets flooded with gentlemen so blind
That ride on banknote horses full of eyes.

And by the power of reality
Our bodies exhale silent tranquility
While the soul delightfully flies
far away, above past july skies.

In the end the world's a Titan
Not moved by either force nor prayer.
His will, unbent, unbroken
His compassion dormant, never awoken.